


Good Deed Gone Wrong

by MarvelHolic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddling, Depression, Father-Son Relationship, Flashbacks, Hurt Peter Parker, Impaled, Iron Dad, Iron dad and Spider son, Mutants, Originally a whumptober fic, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sorry Not Sorry, Stabbing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, attempt at heavy angst, but took too long to get around to, first published fic in this fandom, it's cool, might have a second chapter, platonic, probably failed at that, spider son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 16:52:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16769107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelHolic/pseuds/MarvelHolic
Summary: Six months after half the universe was brought back, Peter Parker finally feels like himself again. With his new-found resolve after months of bed-ridden depression and PTSD, Peter puts his suit on. What was supposed to be a slow ease-in back to his normal routine turns into a stab in the gut--literally.





	Good Deed Gone Wrong

When he woke up this morning, Peter realized he had slept better in that one night than he had the entire six months since he had come back from Titan. It was a little unnerving to realize how _refreshed_ he felt. Looking into the mirror, he didn’t see himself fading to dust, nor did he see flashes of Mr. Stark cradling him in his arms. He didn’t even feel the overwhelming dizziness that always accompanied his waking moments.

Maybe they were right. He would get through this.

Maybe he was finally ready to put his suit back on and fight some crime. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed swinging through Queens after school and the feeling of freedom it gave him. He even missed that lady who seemed to always be around the churro stand.

It’s just…ever since Mr. Stark and the other Avengers brought everyone back, it felt like he was all alone in his pain. No one else had felt themselves disintegrating like he did. No one else, not even the enhanced Winter Soldier, had a slow death.

No one else remembered the Soul Stone and its _Hell_ , for lack of a better term.

But today? Today, he felt oddly invigorated, like his body was done stressing itself out. His unused muscles ached to spring out of his apartment and swing from building to building. He can’t remember the last time he felt the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins as he swung around the city. Mind stirring with a newfound determination, he got dressed in record time, and he would have sprinted out of the house had Aunt May not made food for him before school.

When he walked into the kitchen buzzing with energy, May made a choked sound, eyes staring him up and down. Ever since he got back, May has had to wake him up every single day. He never got up on his own, even sometimes to use the bathroom. He never _wet_ the bed, per say, but he did like to cut it close. It’s just…the only place he ever felt truly safe was under his blankets. It was like hiding from the monsters under his bed, he was safe as long as all limbs were wrapped in his blanket.

“Your shirt’s inside out.” May remarked at breakfast, smiling through a mouthful of eggs.

He looked down and laughed. Of course. Sighing, he reached down and yanked it off quickly, replacing it just as fast. He realized that maybe his science pun would be funnier if it was on the side that everyone could see.

Or maybe it could just be a literal _inside joke_.

Chuckling to himself, he looked back up to his aunt who was currently staring at him like he also had his head on backwards. Confused, he asked, “What?”, also through a mouthful of eggs.

She visibly swallowed her food but continued staring, eyes huge from her thin-rimmed glasses. “I haven’t seen you do that in a long time.”

“What?” He asked again.

“Laugh.” She said thoughtfully, gently setting her fork down.

“Oh,” he murmured, looking back down at his food. Despite her pointing it out, his mood didn’t waver. He felt good for once, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of that. He reached out across their table and grabbed May’s hand, squeezing gently. “I think I’m ready to see that therapist you and Mr. Stark asked me about. I’m tired of going through the motions, May. I want to get past this.”

She squeezed back, smiling softly. He doesn’t think he’s seen her this happy since he got back either. Sure, she was beyond overjoyed when Mr. Stark came home with him in his arms, but he knew that his depressed state had been wearing her down as well. “You know I love you, right?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I mean aside from being told those exact words every single day? Nah, I didn’t know.”

She let out a soft laugh as she stood up, gathering their dishes as she went. She dropped the dishes in the sink and began scrubbing them, her back to him. “Peter,” she murmured warily. “I’m serious. I know these past few months have been hard, and I haven’t been able to really understand everything you went through up there, but I’m really grateful you’re here. Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Her shoulders dropped at this but tensed as well, as if holding back from crying. “With Ben gone, and you gone, I had no one. I really hope—I really want you to be able to get past this.” She turned to him now, her eyes red but not quite wet yet. “If you need me to do anything, _anything_ , I can talk with Tony, and we can figure this— _oomph!”_

Her words were knocked out of her as Peter rammed his body into hers, arms wrapping tightly around her torso into a hug. May froze only for half-a-second before wrapping her own arms around her nephew, her wet and soapy hands clinging to his shirt.

It felt nice, holding his aunt like this. Before the snap, they used to cuddle for days on end. They would watch movies and throw popcorn at each other, all the while snuggling tightly into the other. Sometimes, Mr. Stark was even there with Pepper, and Peter would find himself trapped between his aunt and his—dare he say it—father-figure.

He missed that. He wanted to go back to that.

Maybe he could now.

_Be careful what you wish for._

No matter how much Peter’s mood had improved overnight, school was still the epitome of soul-sucking. And his soul had actually been sucked into a stone before—so he could say that confidently. Before his life had been turned upside-down, his only highlight of each school day had been Chemistry class where he brewed new web-fluid and got to blow stuff up. Since he got back, he hadn’t found an interest in much of anything. The good thing about it all was that he and everyone else that had dusted had come back near the end of the school year, and just a few months later, he was now only just barely to the end of the first semester of his senior year. Plenty of time to catch up before he graduated and went off to college.

So, despite his renewed motivation, school dragged on with every aching _tick_ of the clock. Ned and MJ made it better, of course. When they realized how upbeat he was acting, they caught on quickly and were more than eager to get back to their excited babbles about the day.

Flash also helped the day go on a little faster. He, too, caught onto Peter’s good mood and was quick to spout out his teasing. Peter paid him no mind. If anything, it was kind of refreshing.

When the bell finally rang, Peter dashed out of the building faster than he had in a long time. His unused muscles screamed at him to slow down, but the rest of his body denied their request, pushing his feet faster and faster down the steps and to the gate.

At first, he was a little worried he wouldn’t be able to jump the fence this time. He couldn’t even remember the last time he hurdled something, let-alone a ten-foot fence.

He passed it easily, though, laughing at himself for thinking his spider-powers would let him be anything less than amazing. When he found an empty ally between buildings, he dropped his backpack but then hesitated. Looking at the unopened bag, a thousand thoughts passed through his head.

_What if I’m not ready? What if I have a panic attack right in the middle of helping someone? What if I screw something up and end up hurting someone else? What if, what if, what if?_

Surprisingly, though, he managed to push the thoughts aside with a simple _What if I save someone today?_ And that was all he needed to rip into his backpack and slide his suit on.

Hitting the emblem on his chest felt more instinctive than he realized it had been. The feeling of the material forming to his skin sent a shiver of content down his spine. Putting his mask on was the icing on the cake, the Stark-tech balancing out his enhanced senses to a more productive level. He smiled.

He was back.

“Welcome back, Peter.” A voice said in his ear.

Yelping, Peter flung himself onto a wall, suctioning himself there and frantically looking around him. Who—?

His eyes widened at his stupidity.

“Karen!” He all but squealed, releasing himself from the wall. “You scared me half-to-death!”

“I’m sorry, Peter.” The AI said, sounding almost regretful.

“No, no!” he quickly said. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting that. It’s been so long since I put on the suit, and I _completely_ forgot there was a talking person in it. It’s totally cool. I forgive you. If anything, _I_ should be the one apologizing for forgetting you.” He rambled. He knew he should feel weird; apologizing to a computer had to be at the top of the “Crazy” list, but he didn’t really care. It was comforting to hear Karen’s voice through the comms again. She had helped him stop so much crime, and having her back was like the last piece to the puzzle he hadn’t realized he needed.

So, as he began his swift journey through Queen’s, Karen informed him that there really wasn’t as much going on as he thought there would be, which made sense.

Over the months, he had been so wrapped in his own head that he hadn’t even thought much about how the world around him was handling the aftermath. The city itself seemed in rather good condition. It almost appeared as though a giant donut ship _hadn’t_ landed in the middle of the city and sent out a creepy alien-guy to get a necklace. Well, aside from the few scattered shops that were vacant and the signs reading “Closed permanently” hanging on the glass doors. 

It wasn’t until around eleven that Karen spoke up and told him what time it was, making him realize how long he had been out. It was then he realized his stomach was protesting as well, but the churros from earlier were definitely keeping the pangs at bay, at least.

She also informed him that he had an incoming call from Mr. Stark.

_Shoot._

He had been so excited to get back out that he hadn’t even realized how much trouble he would get in by staying out so late.

He was about to tell Karen to deny the call when Tony’s voice filtered through the speakers. Sighing, he landed on top of a building and sat down, he feet dangling off the edge.

“Kid? Do you know what time it is?” His voice rang out, sounding stern but also…relieved?

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark! Yeah, I do, and I’m sorry. May told me before I left for the school that she was going to have a late night at work, and I guess it slipped my mind that I should still head home at the same. I mean, it’s not like I’m avoiding the apartment, or anything. I just didn’t realize what time it was, honest. The churro lady—who told me her name is Margie, by the way—congratulated my return and gave me—like—ten, and I spent so much time eating them and handing the others out to the homeless people. And then there was this one guy who actually tried to steal _my_ wallet, and—”

“Pete, kid, hush for a second.” Mr. Stark interrupted, giving a small chuckle. Peter instantly shut his mouth, lips pressed into a thin line. At this point, he didn’t really know what reaction to expect from the older man, so he just listened. “I’m not here to gripe at you. I mean, I probably should say _something_ about your late-night activity, but I honestly cannot find it in myself to scold you.”

Peter couldn’t help the smile that snaked across his lips.

“I have to admit, when May called me and told me you put your suit in your backpack, I was shocked. I was starting to wonder if you would ever even look at it again, let alone stuff it right in next to your textbooks.” There was a pause, as if he was fighting himself to ask the next question. “I have to ask, what made you decide to press play on your life, kid?”

Looking out at the city beneath and in front of him, Peter felt a pang in his chest. By the simultaneous sound of strain and relief in the man’s voice, he realized how much stress he had thrust upon Mr. Stark and Aunt May. He hadn’t caught on to the worry they both were pouring onto him until just now. Sure, he knew they were concerned for him. He woke up almost every single night either in a cold sweat or screaming. Obviously, the two most important people in his life had every right to be concerned for him, but he just hadn’t thought of the emotional turmoil he was putting them through by not trying to get back on his feet soon enough.

He sort-of felt guilty, even though he knew it wasn’t _really_ his fault, as Tony had drilled into him as soon as he got back.

_“You’re allowed to feel like this, kid. You have every right to feel like this.”_ He had told him, tucking Peter’s head under his chin and holding him tightly.

Even though it didn’t seem like it by the way he closed himself off from everyone these past six months, he really had wanted to go back to how he was before. He thought almost every day about just getting up and going to work with Tony in the lab, or even just simply watching a movie or something with him, May, and Pepper. But he just physically and mentally _couldn’t_ do it.

Even the days May had sent him to spend the weekend with Tony had been spent doing nothing other than holing up under the covers of his bed with Tony pacing just outside his bedroom door almost all day and night.

Thinking about that and the heartache he must have caused Mr. Stark, he couldn’t help the slight quiver in his voice as he spoke. “I don’t know. I guess—”

A loud _bang_ rang out across the quiet atmosphere, and Peter ducked his head, raising his hands to cover himself. It took Peter a second to figure out where it came from, lowering his hands as he listened. When Karen spoke into his ear, he jumped off the building he was sitting on and swung rather fervently towards where she told him the noise had originated, the bright lights of the city illuminating a path through the night.

“Kid? What’s happening?” Tony’s worried voice entered his head again. Peter had almost forgotten he had been talking to him.

“I heard a gunshot. Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to check it out and see if I can web these guys up.” He quickly informed, muscles clenching tirelessly with every new web.

_Oh, man, I really hope no one is hurt._

There was an unenthused grunt on the other side of the phone. “Is this the first big crime you’ve experience today?”

“Uh, yeah.” He said, finally perching himself on top of a building just above where the bang originated.

“I’m going to stay on to make sure you’re good, okay?”

“Sure, Mr. Stark. Just let me talk to Karen.” He said dismissively. Helicopter parents. Gotta love ‘em.

Peter slowly inched to the edge of the building and peered down. The scene that met him was not an expected one.

There was a man just below him, holding a gun in shaky hands at a girl with bright magenta hair who has to be around Peter’s age. That wasn’t the weird part, though. Levitating around her with a glow the same color as her hair were about ten pieces of jagged-edged pipe pointing straight at the man. It wasn’t until the man’s trembling voice spoke out that Peter realized they had been having a conversation before this.

“But-But, you-you’re one of _them_ , a _mutant._ ” He stumbled out.

The girl simply stuck her chin out at him, arms crossed across her chest. “We prefer the term _enhanced._ Now, if you’re done stating the obvious, can I go? Or are you going to shoot at me again for fixing the pipes?”

“I-I saw you moving the pieces with your _mind._ The last time we heard about someone who could do that, the entire country of Sokovia _fell from the sky_.” As he spoke, the man’s voice was becoming steadier, more determined. Worryingly, his grip on the gun was also becoming steadier.

“And that’s my fault somehow? Look, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not all the same.” She spat out, the pipes hovering next to her head glowing brighter now. “I was actually trying to help out the people who own this building. Free pipe work, that’s it. Chill out.”

As they bantered, Peter crawled his way down the wall, Mr. Stark’s calming breaths and the clanks from whatever he’s working on echoing from the comms. When his feet lightly touched the ground, he started making his way towards them, trying to use the shadows as a covering. If he could get close enough, he could snatch the gun out of that man’s hands and figure out what on earth was going on.

Things went very wrong when Peter took a misstep and collided very non-stealthily into the dumpster. When the man turned and saw Peter’s thin body bending the rusty metal, his eyes widened in fury.

Just then, the man let out a frantic shot, the bullet zipping dangerously-close to Peter’s ear. Mr. Stark voices then started frantically pooling out of the comms, but all he gave in response was a whispered “I’m fine”.

He felt anything but fine, though. _This dude almost blew my brains out._

The shooter backed up and turned back to the girl with a new-found anger. “You were going to have him kill me! Weren’t you?! Teaming up against the helpless, I get it.” He raised his hands, finger now hovering over the trigger again. “Well, that was a warning shot for you and your _friend._ ”

“Helpless? You’re the one with the gun, sir.” Peter piped in, trying to keep his voice calm. He raised his hands in a show of submission. “Maybe if you lower it and give it to me, we can sort this all out like the civilized folk I know we all are.”

Peter desperately wanted to just shoot a web and pull the gun out of the man’s hands, but he was worried what the girl would do once the man was weaponless. He felt so utterly useless. He wanted to ask Mr. Stark who was literally listening to everything that was happening, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he mumbled a comforting statement to his eaves-dropping mentor and stared dreadfully at the events unfolding before him.

_Maybe I shouldn’t have put on the suit_ , he thought to himself. All he had managed to do in this situation was make things so much worse. Now this guy thought they were teaming up against him, and his grip on the gun was turning his knuckles white. There was a flash of orange in his vision, but Peter quickly blinked it away.

An unwelcome but familiar panic shot down Peter’s spine. He hasn’t felt this helpless since—since—

Silently, the man fervently looked between the two enhanced individuals, and Peter could see the gears shifting in his head. That’s when the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and a nauseous feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. If he didn’t do something soon, things were going to go very, _very_ wrong.

The girl with the purple-pink hair and similarly-colored glowing objects took a step back then. Her narrowed eyes darkened in determination, hands now resting palms-up at her sides. “I’m tired of being attacked just because of what I was born with. I don’t need this. I don’t _deserve_ this. If anybody deserves to be treated this way, it’s _you._ ” She growled out, voice rising at that last bit.

Almost instantaneously, the atmosphere around them _exploded_ in color. Then, almost as soon as it started, the world snapped back to normal, but now, instead of the pipes hovering near the girl’s head, they were surrounding the older man.

Peter’s Spidey-sense sky-rocketed then. His stomach dropped as he watched what was happening in front of him, a ringing noise digging into the side of his skull so piercingly loud that he couldn’t hear Mr. Stark’s frantic shouts. Whatever that girl had done, his senses seemed to have dialed up to eleven. He was suddenly very aware of the scratchy material on his skin and the hyperventilating gasps coming from the man.

“W-What is this?! I-I’m sorry, okay? I apologize! L-Let me go!” The man’s once determined voice was now high-pitched and just utterly _terrified._ His shaking form trembled so much that the gun slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor. “L-Look! The gun’s gone. I-I won’t do this again!”

She smiled, fist clenching and pipes inching closer to the man’s body. “Oh, I know you won’t. You won’t be doing much of anything after I—”

“Stop!” Peter finally rang out. He had been trying desperately to get his senses to calm down, but it appeared they didn’t want to cooperate at the moment, and Peter was left squinting at the girl in the dark alley, quietly asking Karen to lower the sound input, almost telling her to mute Mr. Stark who was currently cursing and scrambling around for his nanotech. “You-you don’t want to do this. I promise there are better ways to handle this. Maybe if you just lowered the glowy-thingies, we can take this kind man to the proper authorities. Sound like a plan? There’s no need to impale him in such a grotesque way.”

She chuckled a little at that. “Nah, I like my plan better. Besides, we wouldn’t have even been in this position if he hadn’t _shot at me._ I mean, who even does that?”

“Look—” Peter started, trying to inch closer to the man who had suddenly gone very quiet.

“Shut _up_!” She screamed. She shot her hands out, and now, instead of the pipes surrounding the man, they were hovering pointedly at Peter.

The jagged-edged pipes surrounding Peter suddenly sent his mind spiraling back to the Donut ship. _No, no, no. Don’t go back there,_ he ordered himself _._ Instead, he forced his mind to focus on the strategic aspect of that moment with that Maw guy and his super thin, white-glowing needles hovering around Dr. Strange’s body. Unfortunately, the memory didn’t help him in this case. While he had quickly come up with a plan to free the wizard then, he was at a loss this time. Maybe he really should’ve stayed home tonight; it’s not like anything he has done has helped the situation in any way.

Mr. Stark’s shouts had quieted, but so had everything else.

Peter was painfully aware that one of the pipes was digging into his lower back, but all he could focus on was the five-foot long pipe hovering dangerously close to his abdomen. When he looked up at the girl, her face had gone ash-gray. It seemed that she was just now realizing what she was doing.

She shook her head, as if trying to fight something. “I—I’m so sorry. I don’t—I can’t control my powers. Sometimes they just take over, and I can’t—I can’t fight it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do!”

Internally holding back a shudder, Peter locked eyes with the girl, light blue meeting masked dark brown. “Hey, it’s okay. Everyone is going to be okay, do you understand? Nod if you’re listening to me.” She gave a slow nod, eyes not wavering off his face, hands still up with her palms facing Peter. “Has anything ever calmed you down before?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, then. For a moment, she said nothing, hands clenching and unclenching. Releasing a staggering breath, she focused back on Peter’s masked face. “I don’t know. I just—I get so angry, and every time I get angry, things start glowing and hovering. I don’t understand. My powers only just showed up recently. No one taught me how to—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Me? I wasn’t born like this, so I had to figure things out on my own, okay? I might be able to help you out, okay? Listen, if anger is the problem, then think about something that gives you peace, alright? Tell me something that eases your mind.”

“My little brother…” She said dazedly.

“Okay, good. Tell me about him.” Peter said, letting out a breath as the pressure at his lower back lessened and moved away.

“He’s ten and the sweetest kid you will ever meet.” She said, face visibly straining.

“Kid, tell me what’s happening.” Came an urgent voice near his ears. It wasn’t until then that Peter started to hear repulsors in the distance. He instantly calmed, remembering that Mr. Stark was still on the line.

If Mr. Stark was there, everything would be okay. He just needed to remind himself of that and push his fear aside.

At his silence, Tony asked again, but Peter couldn’t answer him because then the girl would probably start freaking out, and he didn’t need that right now. Especially when it wasn’t just him in that alley.

Or at least, that’s what he had thought. Looking around, Peter saw that older man had vanished. _Perfect,_ he thought bitterly. _He got away._

Okay, maybe he could tell Tony what was going on, just to stop him from barging in scaring the girl even more. But first, he needed to calm the girl down.

“Go on,” he urged, trying to keep his voice light while his Spidey-sense ran rampant.

Visibly loosening, the girl began talking dazedly about her little brother while Peter started whispering into his comms. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Stark. Please, don’t come barging in. You could make things worse.”

He heard the whooshing in his ears come to a stand-still, and he realized Tony must have stopped his flying mid-air. Cool. “Kid, you better not be lying to me. I’m getting some really bad juju coming from my scanners. What is going on? Is it an enhanced?” His mentor asked, audibly trying to calm his breathing. “Kid, answer me.”

That was one of the things Tony had been trying to teach Peter lately: communication. A lot of the problems that had aroused during his time as Spider-Man pre-and-during the Vulture was that they didn’t communicate. Since Peter got back, Tony had been doing all he could to make him talk to him about stuff. He had never been pushy, but sometimes it hurt Peter more to talk about whatever it was he was feeling.

Some of the weekends May had sent Peter over to the Compound had been spent with Tony trying to pry Peter out of his bed and talk to him. Sometimes, though, he had failed at getting the boy out from the covers and instead just sat himself against side the bed and talked. Eventually, Peter had gotten tired of hearing his mentor chatter about his love for Pepper and his distaste for General Ross that he himself choked out his current thoughts. A lot of the time, it had helped. Tony hadn’t had the easiest life, and it was really nice to have someone understand what he was going through. It hadn’t been his cure, but it had been some of the medicine he needed.

Sighing, Peter finally spoke, this time forgetting to keep his voice in a whisper. “It’s just a girl needing help controlling—”

Ice-blue eyes flashed up at Peter, and he realized his mistake.

_Ah, crap._

When the frantic voice of the girl rang out, Peter noticed everything around him taking on a magenta tint, gradually getting brighter and brighter. “Who are you talking to?” She asked, voice shaking. “The police? They won’t help me. They won’t. All they care about is locking people like us away, even if we’ve done nothing wrong.”

Peter put his hands up, still very aware of the pipe hovering around him as he did so. He also now had to squint against the pink light. “I’m not talking to them. I promise. I wouldn’t—”

“Please. Just please, don’t. Don’t tell them. Don’t let them take me away. My brother—My brother—”

A loud shot rang out, and Peter quickly turned his head to see the man from earlier was back, and this time he was holding one gun in _each hand_.

_Nononono! He’s only making things worse!_

That was when things all went to complete and utter _hell_.

Everything that happened next goes on in a blur, a panic attack threatening to overcome him as he watched the scene unfold.

More shots rang out, and an uncontrolled scream erupted from the girl. Peter reached up to shoot a web, but he didn’t get the chance. His vision filled with magenta again, and the sound of repulsors blasted in Peter’s ears, but the one thing that he felt was pure, white-hot _pain_ lancing through his entire body.

His body _slammed_ into the wall, his skull nearly cracking, but it didn’t even _compare_ to what the rest of him was feeling. Looking down, Peter saw scattered pieces of the PVC pipes jutting out from all over his body. There were about ten tiny shards in his legs alone, and then there were about twenty more throughout his torso. The worst ones, the ones that had Peter nearly _screaming_ out, were the solid two-inch-thick piece piercing his right shoulder and the three-inch-thick piece in his left abdomen. The one in his abdomen was the five-foot long one, and he gagged at the blood oozing out of it.

_Mr. Stark is going to kill me_.

Taking a gasping breath, Peter heard a sharp, ear-piercing ringing noise dig into his skull. He wanted to shake his head to clear the fog in his vision and the ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t even twitch his fingers without feeling every single ounce of pain radiate throughout his body.

He tried to focus on the scene in front of him, and he wanted to help, but he couldn’t do more than watch. Even a simple turn of his head had him crying out.

Before him, the man and the girl seemed to be hand-to-hand fighting now, the gun crumpled against the wall. After a few seconds of shouting, the man cried out, and Peter saw tiny shards of the pipe jutting out of the man’s right leg, and then he was down.

Dazedly, Peter looked up to meet the frantic eyes of the magenta girl. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I-I didn’t—”

A sharp, blue blast from next to Peter had the girl knocked out cold against the harsh alley floor, and when Peter just slightly turned his head, he saw none other than Iron Man himself.

“Mr.—Stark,” Peter coughed out, blood dribbling down his chin.

Tony turned from the unconscious girl and looked down at Peter, freezing. The suit suddenly opened up, and Tony Stark staggered out of it and onto his knees next to Peter.

“Oh, kid.” He murmured lightly, hands hovering hesitantly over the kid’s body. When Peter focused slightly on his mentor’s face, the kid’s features relaxed.

“Mr’ Stark,” he mumbled again, this time relieved. “You got ‘em.” He slurred, wincing at the sharp pain in his abdomen.

“Thanks to you, of course. Now, hush. We don’t need you moving anything that shouldn’t be moved, alright?” Tony said, hesitantly running a hand through Peter’s hair. “FRIDAY, scan the internal damage _._ ”

Peter didn’t hear what the AI said then, because Peter a cough erupted from his throat, and the sheer force of that cough had him _screaming_ out. His vision turned white for a second, and then refocused back on a shouting Tony Stark.

“Kid! FRIDAY, call Helen Cho, _now._ Tell her to meet me here. I can’t move him by myself.”

Gritting his teeth, Peter tried to reach for Tony’s hand with his right arm, but the movement jeered the piece in his shoulder, and he choked off his next scream by harshly biting his lip, drawing even more blood.

“Woah, Pete. It’s okay. Here,” Tony said gently, reaching out and grasping Peter’s left hand, clearly trying not to touch the thick piece in his stomach. “Jeez, kid. You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you?”

Peter tried to nod, but just thought of moving his head sent panic down his spine. He just closed his eyes and focused on not moving. It was hard, though, considering he could feel a small wetness seeping around his pants and the hand Tony wasn’t holding. He was really hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was.

He heard Tony suck in a breath, and he realized it was worse. “You’re losing too much blood. There’s no way this is healthy.” There was a light squeeze to his hand, and Peter returned it, relieved that it didn’t cause him too much pain to do so.

_Oh, man. And I thought turning to dust was awful._

He was about to voice that, but he figured Mr. Stark probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Actually, Mr. Stark probably didn’t appreciate any of this.

If he could move his feet, Peter would kick himself for how stupid he was for thinking he could do this. It’s been months since he’s done anything that involves physically exerting himself, and out of the blue he decides to fight crime? He’s an idiot.

He coughed again, more blood staining his chin, and he fleetingly wondered if the dying part would be painless.

_No,_ he told himself. _You’re not dying. Captain America did not sacrifice himself to bring you back just for you to die. Mr. Stark did not risk his entire future for you to die._

But he just didn’t know how to hold on.

“Peter! Pete, open your eyes!” A frantic voice rang out. Peter snapped his eyes open, not having realized he closed them in the first place, and looked up to see tear-filled muddy-brown eyes staring up at him. Upon seeing Peter open his eyes, Tony bowed his head, letting out a relieved breath. “Don’t _ever_ do that again.”

“’m sorry,” he said, wanting desperately to close his eyes again. He was just so _tired._

“No, nope, those two words are forever expelled from your vocabulary. You hear me?” He said, situating himself more sturdily next to Peter. He looked behind his shoulder then, and let out another breath. “The cavalry is here, kid. You just need to hold on a little longer, okay?”

Peter hummed, forcing his eyes to stay open, but still feeling himself drift off.

_Maybe I deserve this. All those months of sitting on my butt when I could have been helping the city…this is the universe getting back at me. I’ve only ever done more harm than good, anyway._

“That’s not true, and you know it.” Said a familiar voice. Despair inked into his skin as Peter snapped his focus to a new figure standing in front of him. The man had a full head of gray hair, but he looked almost ageless. He wore a flannel shirt and a pair of torn blue-jeans, and he had a distinct watch glittering from his wrist.

And a blood stain spreading over his torso.

Ben.

Taking a shaky breath, Peter stared at his uncle, the man who had given all of himself to protect his nephew, the man whom Peter had loved with every ounce of himself.

The man who was dead.

“Ben,” Peter whispered, a bloody smiling curling on his face.

Peter heard Tony’s startled question, but he ignored him. _Ben was here._

The older man in front of him took a step closer and kneeled down in front of Peter’s bloody form. He smiled. “I’m here, Peter. I wish I wasn’t, but I’m here.”

“’m glad you are.” Peter said, drinking in Ben’s form. He heard voices muttering around him, and he felt somebody pressing fingers to his neck, but all he could focus on was Ben. “I miss you.”

Ben looked pityingly at the kid. “I know, Pete. I miss you, too, but it’s too soon for you to come with me. Do you understand?”

All of the sudden, there was a pressure against his shoulder, and Peter let out a hiss, moving his left hand from Tony’s grip and trying to swat the pain away. He felt more hands on his arm, and he cried out again. “Stop!” He whimpered. _Stop_ , he wanted to say again, but it was as if every bone in his body had stopped working.

He looked back to Ben, eyes frantic, more tears streaming down his cheeks. “Ben, please let me come with you. _Please.”_

_There’s too much pain. There’s too much!_

“You have to hold on, Peter. This city needs you, this world needs you.” He said, standing up. Despite not seeing what was going on, he felt his body moving. It was then that he realized he was on a stretcher. Ben reached out and hovered a hand over Peter’s blood-and-tear-stained cheek. “Tony Stark and May need you.”

Peter let out a sob, biting back a scream as he did so. _But I need you._

He wanted to say that out loud, but his lungs didn’t seem to have any air left. He gave one last glance to Ben before the man disappeared, and Peter held in another sob. _He left again._

As soon as Ben left Peter’s vision, the world snapped back into focus.

People were screaming at each other, and his body jostled at every bump in the alley. Quickly, though, he found himself inside a vehicle with Tony sitting near him, his head down.

_Look at him,_ a voice said in his head, _you’ve hurt him again. He’s the man of iron, and still you managed to hurt him. He’s going to_ break _when you die._

Nausea pooled in his stomach, him trying to fight the voice. He didn’t mean to hurt him, to hurt May. He just wanted to do good again.

_And who said you_ ever _did good in the first place?_

Peter closed his eyes then, wanting to—but not quite—listen to the voice. It was the same voice that had been plaguing his mind for the past few months. It had taunted him, berated him, and even threatened him, but he had never completely given in to it. He had almost done it…once…but he had thought instantly of May, and he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to now, though.

_May_.

That name danced throughout his mind then. Tony may have a heart of iron, but May’s was soft and already damaged in so many places. She had always told Peter that he was the last puzzle piece to her heart that hadn’t gone missing, and he had always promised her that he would be the one puzzle piece to never leave.

He couldn’t leave her. That would be selfish. To leave her would be to break that promise. He couldn’t.

And Tony. Tony wouldn’t be able to get past this. Him turning to dust had _shattered_ that man, and to die now…

No, he couldn’t die.

But it was then that Peter realized he no longer felt any pain, and there was no sharp ringing digging into his skull.

He also couldn’t open his eyes.

He couldn’t move _anything._

_Nononono. Wake up, Peter. Spider-Man, wake up!_

But instead of opening his eyes to the world, he felt himself spiraling down.

And then nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was at least a little good! I will definitely take some constructive criticism. I've only ever written in one fandom, so this was an interesting change. Please tell me your thoughts! Did I do their characters justice? Also, should I continue with another chapter? I could just leave it here and be a one-shot where he dies, but I could continue it, if y'all wanted him to live...


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